ehalf.

"My good friends," said the mariner, "I shall do my very best for you
all. The French and Spaniards have been having it all their own way in
the South seas. It is about time that the English had a share in the
rich spoils of that treasure highway. I shall work my hardest for
you."

The merchants, ship-owners and Quakers nodded.

"May Providence guide your course aright," said they. And--as Captain
Woodes Rogers went off to inspect his privateersmen--all indulged in a
glass of Madeira to pledge "good luck and good health" to the staunch
seaman from Bristol.

It was not many weeks before the _Duke_ (of three hundred and twenty
tons) with thirty guns and one hundred and seventeen men, and the
_Duchess_ (of two hundred and sixty tons) with twenty-six guns and one
hundred and eight men, sailed from King Road for Cork, in Ireland.

"Egad!" cried Captain Rogers, as they passed out to sea. "Our rigging
is slack. Our decks are lumbered up. Our stores are badly stowed. Our
crew is so very mixed that I must stop in Ireland to get more able
sea-dogs. Was ever captain in a worse fix?"

His Lieutenants grinned, for they saw that things were in a sorry
mess, indeed.

"Most of us have embraced this trip around the world in order to
retrieve our fortunes," continued the captain. "Did you ever see a
harder crew than this? There are tinkers, tailors, haymakers,
peddlers, fiddlers, a negro and ten boys. None know how to use the
cutlass and they haven't got any sea-legs. Well, well; I'll make the
best of it, but it's hard goin', I assure you."

And still the Lieutenants grinned.

They grinned still more when they had lain a few days at Cork, for the
crew were continually marrying, although they expected to sail
immediately. However, as the two privateers got under way on
September 1st,--with the _Hastings_, a man-of-war--the majority of the
crew drank a health to their spouses; waved their hands to them over
the rail; and "parted unconcerned." Truly, a sailor has a lass in
every port.

Not many days after their out-going, a sail was sighted and all speed
was made to capture her. The Swedish colors fluttered from her
mast-head, and she hove to at the first gun. Rogers boarded.

"No contraband goods are here," said he, after looking into the hold.
"We must let her off."

Then--turning to her captain--he said,

"You can go. I am not a pirate--but a privateer--sailing under Letters
of Marque. I only seize goods that ar